Burden
by s82
Summary: Legolas takes a moment to think of his familial burden.


Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no credit. Everything belongs to Tolkien.

Rating: G. It's a drabble

Timeframe: Pre-LotR

Author's Notes: The aim is to have a glimpse into Legolas' younger life. There are a lot of things alluded to briefly that are inserted to move us to the present situation, but nothing is truly flushed out. In many ways, it almost reads like an essay on Legolas' life, or well, one aspect of it.

I hope you enjoy and FB is always nice.

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_"We can easily manage if we will only take, each day, the burden appointed to it. But the load will be too heavy for us if we carry yesterday's burden over again today, and then add the burden of the morrow before we are required to bear it." _

-John Newton

……..

Burden

…….

There was one moment of the day that Legolas loved above all others. It was that time that came just before he would crawl into his bed for sleep. It was that moment of contented release; of removing the heavy weight of his world from his shoulders. Legolas had long ago accepted his life as a prince and the responsibilities that came with such a title. He had learned to adjust to the added pressures appointed to him and his family. In one respect Legolas was lucky for he was not the crown prince nor even his sister who would take the throne should anything happen to his eldest brother. Yet, in other ways, Legolas was unlucky for he was the youngest. It seemed only Galar, the third child, was lucky for he would probably never inherit the throne and neither was he the last-born.

Being the youngest meant Legolas was watched over much more carefully than his three older siblings by his parents. Of course Legolas knew a lot of their concerned\\ stemmed from the fact that the times he was born into were dark and filled with malice and danger. Besides being the last to join his family, Legolas was one of the last Elves born in Mirkwood and so he and the others born in the end of the Age felt the strength of the growing darkness encroach on their freedoms. Legolas was not granted the same freedoms as his siblings simply because it could not be done. To walk around the forest at night was a death sentence for even the best trained warriors, let alone a young elf. And given that he was a prince on top of everything meant even more caution was used whenever Legolas set foot outside the palace. Yet, Legolas, like everything else, had gotten use to having a guard with him when he chose to explore and was well aware that a negative answer would result from either parent when he sought to explore further away.

As he had gotten older, of course, the privileges grew. He eventually was not required to bring a guard with him, though on longer and more dangerous trips Thranduil told his child to bring fellow warriors. Legolas had argued occasionally but more often than not consented to the decree. The prince never resented his parents for their watchful eye over him, although he did grow weary of it. He longed for the freedoms that had been gifted to those born in better times, but his childhood was shaped by the darkness and, in reality, it became what he was use to. In many ways it was the life he'd grown to love and accept.

But the trend of being granted more freedoms came to a screeching halt when his mother had been killed only a mere three hundred years ago. He did not ventured anywhere outside the palace without a companion; he was restricted to Home Guard instead of the more dangerous Southern Patrol where he, in all actuality, would have been of greater help. Even the few and far between diplomatic ventures to places like Lake-Town ceased for the youngest prince.

Yet, he did not argue then. His father was overcome with grief, as was the rest of the family and Legolas did not have it in him to argue with his father's need to protect him. Not at the time at least.

A hundred years passed, though a lifetime for a mortal, it was a mere blink of an eye for the royal family of Mirkwood. Much of those years passed in a blur of grief that threatened to tear the family apart. But, they survived and, though Legolas knew it was cliché, he felt they were stronger and closer than before. And so, the prince began asking for those freedoms he had given up willingly back.

Thranduil resisted though. His child, the youngest at that, had become his precious gem. Legolas was the fairest in the family, a trait inherited from his mother and his eyes were the brightest and easiest to change at the slightest emotion that, also, was something the Queen was known for. His cat-like figure, something that hid his physical strengths easily, was lithe like his mother's. In nearly all aspects Legolas was his mother's son and even his elder sister did not bear the light hair or eyes of their mother. And so Legolas, simply put, became his mother's image in Thranduil's mind. Thranduil held fiercely to what he considered the final remainder of his beloved wife and to allow Legolas to venture back into the dark forest and into the very evils that killed the Queen was simply not going to happen.

Yet, there was one trait that Legolas did inherit from his father and that was Thranduil's never-ending stubbornness. The prince waited, but did not relent. However, neither did his father. For almost a century the two fought and argued, but Thranduil never budged.

This only caused Legolas to pull on the confining reigns even more. He tugged at them and pushed at Thranduil until the end result was a break that took both by surprise.

In the heat of a moment, anger and fear rising to levels previously not seen between the two, Legolas made the mistake of not watching his tongue. 'Holding me captive will not bring back my mother!' He had cried. 'She is dead, father, and nothing you can do will ever bring her back.'

Thranduil did not relent either. 'You are a prince of this realm. I do not seek to hold you captive, but merely to keep you protected.'

'I cannot breath here! I am prisoner.'

'You are a prince and will do as I say.'

And then the damning words fell from Legolas' lips. 'Not any longer.'

Thranduil had paused then, absorbing the words. 'You think you can revoke your heritage? You think that you are not first and foremost a prince of these woods?' He had scoffed at that. 'You are a fool.'

Without thought Legolas had reached into his shirt and viciously grabbed a chain, which held his family crest. 'Then I am a fool,' he said as he dropped the chain at his father's feet, turned on heel and left Thranduil reeling in the wake.

For over fifty year the father and son rarely shared more than a dozen words; both hurt by the other yet not knowing how to make amends. The words shared in a hostile moment that was the culmination of the pain, fear, restraint, and many other factors, were regrettable, even more so because of the stinging truth behind them. Legolas and Thranduil loved each other, if possible, almost too deeply to ever see eye to eye. Thranduil longed to keep his child safe, Legolas longed to make his father proud and felt he could not do so while confined. But Thranduil could not do what he desired with Legolas running wildly through the forest. The clash was evitable and the fixing of the break took fifty years and a near-death experience.

Legolas now looked back at the situation and realized how very lucky he had been to survive and, yet, how poor his luck had truly been that day. The prince ran away from home, hoping to escape his father's ever tightening hold on him, and all too soon, he'd run right into trouble. A rather large spider attacked the stead he rode on and Legolas was forced to abandon the horse once it had been bitten and began to fall victim to the spider's parallelizing venom. He'd done his best to protect the horse, but the spiders, smelling death in the air, came in hordes and for his own safety Legolas was forced to flee, only able to spare the horse a slow death with a well-placed arrow. The prince escaped the spiders easily enough for they were hungry and had prey, but in his haste and emotionally torn state of mind, Legolas neglected to notice the drop off before it was too late. The fall off the rather good-size cliff had knocked him unconscious for the better part of the day and caused three ribs to break, one of which punctured his lung, and his ankle to been nearly spilt in half. The prince attempted to move once he gained consciousness and surprisingly traveled for almost two hours before the injuries claimed his strength. Defeated and terrified, the prince laid down to await his fate.

Two days later his father's scouting party found him, near death, and flew him back to the palace. Legolas remembered little of his time in the healer's ward, but knew enough to know he was touch and go for a while. Yet, he was nothing if not his father's son and his stubbornness proved to be his lifesaver. It was while recovering in the ward that he and his father talked.

Thranduil yelled at Legolas about his stupidity, he cursed his son's crazy antics and sheer audacity; he'd even shed tears over the near loss of his child. And yet, even while he did this, he began to understand his son's actions better. He began to see that Legolas would continue to do dangerous things if only for that one-day, that single hour even, of freedom. And Thranduil finally seemed to understand what his son had been trying to tell him over the years. From that day on, though still watched carefully, Legolas gained most of his freedoms back.

But even with them, his responsibilities to the throne were many. Even as the youngest, he had duties that kept him indoors for days on end. He had appearances to keep up and nothing he could think to do would ever remove him from his obligation to the crown.

And that was why this part of the day was his favorite.

As a member of the royal family, Legolas was made to wear many things. Ceremonial robes to gatherings, crowns of leaves, of mithril, of berries, of anything one could dream up to put on top a head, jewelry to balls, and the list went on. But these things had their time and place and there was only one item he wore at all times that told of his place within Mirkwood.

He had once dropped this same item at his father's feet in a moment of emotionally driven haste.

The small oval crest bore the shield of his House. Leaves of oak intertwined steady braches of birch. A crown set before a sky full of star rested atop the leaves and braches. In elvish, the name "House of Oropher" rung its way around the entire oval nearly looping back on itself. In the center of the crown, also in elvish, was the number four representing his place as the forth child born to the King and Queen. It was a mere inch in diameter, but the symbolism behind the charm had nothing to do with its size. All members of the Royal Family wore their own personalized charm at all times on a thin mithril chain. It was, as Thranduil once said, their duty and their right.

At times it felt more like their burden.

Legolas would wake every morning, put the necklace on and stare at himself in the mirror. Bare-chested save for the charm, he slowly felt himself become transformed into the prince he would be forced to be for the day. He felt the weight of his House bear down on him and he would square his shoulders as if finding a way to make all the weight more comfortable. And then he would grab his shirt, lace it up, and the necklace would be hidden from view, but not forgotten. When he was younger his father use to make sure he wore the charm, but now it went without saying; everyday, no matter where he was going, the necklace would come.

Yet, there was one place he never wore it and that was to bed. Every night, Legolas would remove his shirt and stand in front of the mirror as he had hours before. He would stare at the crest and then, with the utmost care, he would removed it. With its removal came a release of air that Legolas felt he had been holding all day.

As soon as the necklace was off, Legolas felt more himself than ever. He felt like just another woodland elf turning in for the night. He did not worry about his kingdom as a prince, but merely as a citizen. He did not worry about trade, or foreign hostility, but merely allowed his mind to drift. It was, oddly enough, once he no longer felt like a prince that his thoughts turned towards his mother. She often reminded him to not always feel bounded by his duties to the throne and to remember to find peace. And so this was the peace he found every night.

Placing the newly removed necklace in its safe spot , Legolas walked to his balcony and looked at the stars. The night was beautiful and one would never guess that evil swarmed around these woods from every side, growing stronger everyday. For this moment, Legolas did not think of such things. He simply looked at the stars and allowed a sense of calmness to wash over him. A cool breeze traveled across the balcony and Legolas took a deep breath of the fresh air. He felt, as he did every night he was granted this release, free and light. Opening his eyes, Legolas sparred one more look outside and across the forest. Moving slowly back to his bed, Legolas laid down and prepared himself to sleep.

Tomorrow morning would come soon enough and the necklace, and all that it represented, would be around his neck once more.

But, for now, he was merely Legolas, elf of Mirkwood, drifting off to slumber.

The End


End file.
